


Gate 22

by taylortot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Dates, Flirting, Getting to Know Each Other, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Meet-Cute, SO MUCH FLIRTING!, keith is kind of a dumbass but it really works for lance, kind of!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29124654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylortot/pseuds/taylortot
Summary: After a weekend spent celebrating Shiro's wedding, Keith becomes immediately smitten with a cute boy he meets in the airport terminal during a five hour delay. The only problem is: they're not taking the same flight home.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 143
Kudos: 807





	Gate 22

**Author's Note:**

> this is THE silliest thing i have ever written. it is ridiculous. you are going to love it or hate it and i'll totally understand either way. i made the rating M bc things get a little suggestive at one point, but it's still pretty tame. don't take this too seriously, i know i didn't! hope you enjoy!!!

Keith got to the airport a little early.

Normally, he’d do anything at all costs to avoid spending large amounts of time in an airport--big crowds full of people with no common sense have a tendency to make him testy and irritated--but he couldn’t really stand to spend another second around Shiro. Keith has just come off of a weekend-long wedding event that was sickeningly romantic, and Shiro--newly wed, drunk off of rose petals and pearl cufflinks and a set of vows that brought the entire room to tears--had great big glowing hearts in his eyes the whole time. It was pathetic, and hilarious, and heart-warming. 

Leaving was as much about giving Shiro and Adam a head start on their honeymoon as it was about getting out of such an agonizingly love-drenched environment. Keith had felt like a 10 year old, gagging at the sweetness, no matter how delighted he was to see his brother so happy. Adam was sorta embarrassed about the whole thing, but shameless Shiro had just waved Keith off with a winning smile brighter than the sun and made him promise to call when he landed after his flight.

With so much extra time on his hands, he stops to idle at the first bar he finds after making it through the TSA checkpoint, browsing their overhead menu casually. A drink might take the edge off of the irritation he’s got from being around so many people, and it would give him an excuse to sit down away from the crowds hustling up and down the walkways. Hard to see a negative there.

Maybe not this bar, though, he thinks, glancing around the room to see that every available seat is full. What space in the bar isn’t occupied by people is cluttered with luggage and his irritation mounts. There has got to be a quieter place around here. He is still close to TSA, where there is probably the highest volume of people. If he walks a little farther surely there will be some reprieve. He hefts his duffle bag up more firmly on his shoulder and turns to walk down the hall towards his gate.

Keith isn’t sure what catches his attention first. The young man isn’t wearing anything flashy, just a white T-shirt with a blue bomber jacket and a pair of jeans with holes in the knees. His hair is brown--messy, slightly curly--topped with a pair of aviator sunglasses, and he’s absorbed by the phone in his hand, foot tapping against the floor.

There’s something immediately charming about him, boyish and handsome. It might be the way he bites at his lower lip, or rubs a hand at the back of his hair to ruffle his curls. Maybe it’s just the fact that Keith can see the skin of his knees. And Keith isn’t the type of guy to get caught up in something so shallow as good looks. It’s been a long time since his last relationship, figuring he’s not really the dating type. But if he were to say this is the most attractive boy he’s ever seen, it wouldn’t exactly be a lie. Suddenly, nothing seems more important than knowing this beautiful stranger’s name. Every other thought drops out of his head--his desperate quest for a beer, his boarding information, his own name: gone. 

Some traveller bumps into his shoulder and shoots him a dirty look for stopping in the middle of the hall, bringing some of Keith’s sense back to him. He ignores that passenger and steps out of the throng of people into the gate area. The information board reads DELAYED in big yellow letters--five hours. As if to explain why, a streak of lightning cracks across the sky outside the rain-specked windows. The rain is coming down so hard he can barely even see any of the other gates.

He leaves a space between them when he sits, placing his duffle on the floor beside his feet. His chest feels strangely tight, face hot, and he doesn’t know if that’s because he’s flustered or because the airport is muggy and overcrowded. The boy must feel his gaze on him because he looks up from his phone as soon as Keith has settled beside him and all Keith sees is freckles. 

“Hey, you headed to LA, too?” the stranger asks, warm and friendly. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, man, but there’s a delay.” He jabs his thumb towards the podium, where the gate information is presented. “Weather.”

Keith is not going to LA. The ticket in his back pocket is a one-way back down to Austin, scheduled to depart in three hours now. The weather should pass by then. “I figured,” Keith says good-naturedly, despite the fact it has no effect on him whatsoever. “What about you?”

“Unfortunately,” he replies, gesturing towards all of his long, lithe body spread out over his seat with a grin. The guy looks LA with those sunglasses, and the freckles, his smile gleaming and purposefully charming. “Wasn’t sure how I was going to pass the time, but it looks like I’ve got some _very_ handsome company now.”

Ah, Keith thinks with some amusement. So he’s a flirt. The compliment, while cheesy and a little over the top, pleases Keith. He likes the idea of this gorgeous boy thinking him attractive. “I could say the same,” he says easily, the slightest twang of his southern accent stark next to this guy’s voice, relaxing a bit more back into his seat.

The boy blinks at him in surprise for a moment and Keith’s pleasure ripens.

“I’m Keith,” Keith offers.

He gets a few more doe-eyed blinks and then a smile, a little slower than the first one he earned, but twice as sweet. “I’m Lance.” He turns in his seat to face Keith and props his elbow up on the back of it, cupping his cheek in his hand. “You wanna get a drink with me, Keith? As a way to pass the time, of course, no pressure. And don’t take pity on me and say yes just because I’m asking and you don’t want to be rude--you’re cute, but I’m not that fragile.”

Keith’s stomach flutters, and he can hear his own warmth when he replies. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

::

He quickly learns that Lance is a fast-talker, obscenely genuine, animated with his hands, and surprisingly shy when it comes to accepting compliments. Keith is half in love with him from the start.

They’ve found themselves a little booth in a much quieter restaurant far away from Lance’s gate, their bags stacked against the wall on top of each other. Lance ordered a serving of onion rings to split between the two of them, and some sort of fruity cocktail as pink as a sunset sky, which he keeps swirling around with a mini umbrella absently, drawing Keith’s attention periodically to his slender hands.

“So why’re you in New York, Keith?” Lance asks, picking the cherry out of his drink and popping it into his mouth. “You’re definitely not from around here.”

Keith rubs a thumb against the condensation on the lip of his glass. “What makes you say that?” he asks.

Lance points the umbrella at him. “Well, for starters, you sound like you’ve just crawled out of a country music video. You’re kinda dressed like that too.”

“I’m wearing a black T-shirt.”

“And--” Lance says, talking over him, “--with some sort of farmer’s looking jacket I swear I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me you were out milking some cows this morning or something. Well, maybe. Do they even have cows in--”

“It’s a fire hose jacket.”

Lance blinks at him for a moment before laughing, and oh. Keith has got to get him to do that again. “Yes! That’s exactly what I mean! I’ve never even heard of that! Oh man, that’s perfect. You see? From your voice to your clothes to your face you have got ‘born and raised country boy’ written all over you.”

“My face?” Keith asks, suddenly amused. “Are you going to elaborate on that?”

Lance’s mouth opens and closes twice as if looking for words, flustered, as if he misspoke. “No, because I get the feeling if I do, I’ll get teased for it and we don’t even know each other that well. I won’t let myself be teased by a stranger, Keith, I’m sure you understand.” Despite the flush sitting on his cheeks, Lance’s voice comes across intentionally demure which makes something hot flash in Keith’s belly.

“I was in New York this weekend for my brother’s wedding,” Keith tells him after taking a drink of his beer. 

Lance swallows down the last bite of an onion ring. “That’s great! How was it?”

Keith smiles, remembering. “It was good. I’ve never seen anyone as in love with their partner as my brother is. It was kinda gross.”

Lance laughs, making that perfect sound again, widening Keith’s smile. “You know, I totally get what you mean. One of my older brothers got married a few years ago and it was hard to be in the same room as him and his wife for the next six months.”

“So what about you?” Keith asks, eager to learn, eager to know. “Are you from here? Just visiting?”

Lance sips at the stirring straw in his drink and fixes Keith with a crinkly blue-eyed smile. “Yeah, visiting. I’m from LA, but my best friend is out here going to culinary school. We both had the weekend free so, I thought, I hadn’t seen him in almost a year. I just hopped on a plane and got my ass out here so I could give him a big hug again.” He takes another sip of his drink. “We spent most of the time watching movies in his apartment, but it was the best.”

“Are you a student, too?”

“Yep! But not for cooking. I can hardly boil water without burning it,” Lance chuckles. “I’m in undergrad right now. Still undecided, which drives my family crazy. They all want me to get a business degree so I can help out with the family business once I graduate but I will definitely not be doing that. Thinking of applying for a study abroad program just to get away from their nagging for a little while, but I’m not sure that’s the right reason to study abroad. I don’t even know where I’d go. It’s hard to know what you want, you know?” He stops abruptly and Keith watches in surprise as his cheeks darken a bit in color once again and he sucks up the last of his cocktail.

“Sorry,” Lance says.

“What?” Keith questions, confused. 

“I started rambling,” Lance explains, pushing his glass away. “I, uh, do that sometimes. That was a lot of information you didn’t ask for.”

Keith’s confusion only deepens, his eyebrows creasing. “That’s okay. I--” He scratches the back of his neck and then checks his watch. Two hours before his departure time. He’s in no rush, still. Got nowhere else he’d rather be. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but you can tell me anything you’d like.”

Lance’s face is still holding onto that blush, but he’s averting his eyes from Keith, stirring the little umbrella around in his half-melted ice cubes just for something to do. “Well,” Lance says, and his voice is warm and easy, waving his other hand around in a showy gesture. “This is exactly what I meant by that country boy thing, you know. Southern gentleman. You treat everyone like this, Keith, or am I special?”

Flirting again. He slides his gaze back towards Keith and looks up at him, but his expression isn’t coy. Keith thinks that Lance wouldn’t consider him such a gentleman if he really knew him. If he knew that he had a short temper and was only well liked by a handful of people back home. If he knew that he had rough hands and a sailor’s mouth and a messy house and terrible sleeping habits. If he knew he had fleeting, inappropriate thoughts about cute, freckled boys with sunny smiles. That, most of all, certainly did not deem Keith worthy of a title so genteel. 

Keith thinks, _no, it’s you._

Keith thinks, _you’re special._

Keith says, “Let me get you another drink, while you decide on that.”

Lance laughs again, delighted by Keith’s answer. “Okay, babe. You do that.”

When Keith returns to their table from the bar a few minutes later, he’s almost totally forgotten about those flirty throw away lines until Lance happily takes the drink and starts sipping at it. 

“I’ve decided that I’m special,” he announces.

This time, it’s Keith’s turn to laugh.

::

By the time Lance finishes his third drink, Keith feels as though he knows everything about him. Part of it has got to be the alcohol, but Lance just reads like an open book. When Keith asks him a question, Lance will go on and on in answer, bridging subjects unself-consciously, hands fluttering, and laughing more at his jokes than anyone Keith has ever known. It’s wildly attractive, that Lance is so genuinely true to himself, that despite the slip of insecurity he’d shown Keith earlier, he still enjoys his own company.

Keith is feeling the alcohol, too. He downed four, both of them growing louder in their corner of the restaurant until the manager had to come out and ask them to either leave or be quieter. While Lance excused himself to use the restroom, Keith paid for their drinks and gathered their luggage and their jackets, meeting Lance at the bathroom to suggest they find somewhere else to carry on. 

They eventually find a deserted gate at the very end of the terminal. Lance collapses into a seat ungracefully and pats the space directly next to him, inviting Keith to sit close. He does, even knowing he’s only got twenty minutes left until his plane departs. Hard to care when it feels like they’re the only two people in the world right now. He hasn’t even told Lance he’s not going to LA yet. He doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t know how. 

“So Keith. Now that you know all about me, what do you think?” Lance asks, leaning back against the wall. 

“I think I’m glad there was a delay,” Keith tells him, and smiles when Lance chuckles.

“Hey! That’s a good answer. I’m flattered, but you know there are still like two hours, don’t you? Hope you aren’t getting ahead of yourself.” He pauses, seemingly settling in closer. Keith’s heart leaps into his chest overdramatically when Lance pulls his hand into his lap and starts to trace the shape of his fingers. “You going home to anyone?”

Keith raises an eyebrow, but his skin tingles from the contact. “No. Are you?”

“Just my mama, three of my siblings, and my cat,” Lance hums, his finger lightly smoothing over the lines in Keith’s palm. “You have calluses on your hands.”

“I’m a carpenter.”

“Oh, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.” Lance looks at him for a long moment. “Fits you, though. Did you go to school for that?”

Keith is surprised by how easy this is. For someone who usually keeps everyone at a distance, giving Lance these details of his life feels natural, like breathing, like it’s just something that he has to do. He thinks Shiro would be laughing at him if he could see him now, practically snuggled up in a corner with this boy, hand held captive by choice.

“I went to a trade school, yeah.”

“Mmm.” Lance hums again, tracing the veins on Keith’s wrist, wreaking havoc on his pulse. “I think I’m a little drunk.”

Keith is hot all the way up to his hairline. “Me too.”

“Like, not a lot. Like, not enough to think I should keep my hands to myself, but enough to want to keep touching you, you know what I mean?”

He thunks his head back against the wall and feels his hand tremble slightly in Lance’s gentle grip. “Yeah,” he grunts.

“Is that okay?” 

“Yeah.”

Lance laughs lightly, hearing the weight in that word, but he presses a little harder over his wrist and Keith can feel it like a thumbprint of heat in his belly. “You sure?”

Keith opens his eyes with a sigh to stare at the dark skylights--the sun must have set by now and the storm must have passed, since there is no thunder rumbling overhead anymore. It’s at this moment exactly that he knows he’s going to miss his flight. Not because he will be late running over to his gate, but because he is choosing, right now, to stay right here. “I’m not used to this sort of thing, is all.”

“Couldn’t tell. You’re a natural.”

The lightness in Lance’s tone makes Keith laugh. “You often get cozy with strangers in deserted airport terminals?”

“I never kiss and tell,” Lance says, and his finger starts skating up further over the plane of Keith’s forearm. 

Keith’s heart thuds harder in his chest. He picks up his head and looks down at Lance who has got to know exactly what he’s doing when he leans in and props his chin up on Keith’s shoulder. 

“You’re a huge flirt,” Keith tells him, as if he doesn’t know.

“Yep,” Lance replies gleefully, popping the ‘p’. “Thought you figured that out by now.”

“Oh, I have.”

“Kinda wanna see what you’ll do about it,” Lance says, and he’s so nonchalant about it that it almost makes Keith angry for the way his stomach flashes again with heat. Maybe Lance has no idea the effect he has on Keith, but with the way he prods at him with these words make it obvious he’s trying to find out.

“You know, Lance, for someone who doesn’t want to be teased by strangers, you sure do an awful lot of teasing yourself.”

Lance gasps dramatically, but his eyes are dancing with amusement. “I’m not teasing you anymore than you’re teasing me!”

Keith scoffs. “You’re absurd, and wrong.”

Lance laughs and smothers his mouth against Keith’s T-shirt for a moment before propping his chin back up on his shoulder. “That is false, sir. What do you call this?” He squeezes unexpectedly at Keith’s bicep, grinning toothily. Keith really can’t help but wonder if he’d be sitting here with anybody who had approached him at the gate earlier. How much of this is just a way to sate his boredom? And just why the hell is Keith enjoying it so much?

“That is my arm,” Keith explains.

“That,” --he squeezes it again-- “is straight up 100% delicious muscle, babe. Which you flexed at me when you took off your jacket earlier, by the way. How is that not a tease? You should put these babies away before I swoon.”

He doesn’t know if Lance is messing with him at this point or not, but his face is burning up anyways. “You’re absurd, and wrong, _and_ ridiculous. You’d know it if I was teasing you.” 

Something about his voice must strike a chord in Lance because his hand tightens absently around Keith’s bicep again, cheeks turning pink, and he drops his gaze like he can’t stand to be looked at when he’s the one being flustered. “Well, maybe I’d like to see you try, then,” he says at precisely the same time Keith hears his name being called over the PA, echoing down the hall.

_Southwest Airlines is paging Mr. Keith Kogane. If you’re in the terminal, please make your way over to gate 46 for an immediate departure on flight #728 to Austin, Texas. Once again, Mr. Kogane, if you’re in the terminal..._

Lance must not hear it at all, and even if he did, he doesn’t know Keith’s last name. The idea he’s so focused on Keith that he’s blocked everything else out makes Keith’s blood hot. What started as a curiosity has quickly turned into hunger, helped along by the way Lance has so easily allowed Keith to be near him. He takes Lance by the hand and brings his knuckles up to his mouth for a lingering kiss, ignoring the announcement altogether. Later, he’ll deal with the repercussions of this decision, but for now, the only thing he wants to do is spend as much time with Lance as he can.

“How’s that?” Keith murmurs against Lance’s knuckles.

“Uhhh…” Lance trails off, eyes wide and bright. “I-I’m not sure this counts as _teasing_ , but it’s--”

“I do wonder about something,” Keith murmurs, kissing his knuckles again.

“What?” Lance asks, like he can’t help himself, staring at Keith like he’s the only thing there is to see.

Keith smirks and drops his hand. “You treat everyone like this, Lance, or am I special?”

Lance jerks away from him and then starts howling with laughter, head tossed back, filling all this empty space around him with his mirth and the only thing Keith can think, is that if he’d left, he’d never have gotten to hear this. He’d never have gotten the chance to make Lance laugh like this. He finds himself grinning wide and gleaming, Lance’s laughter filling up his chest until he’s laughing, too.

“God,” Lance laughs after several moments, quieting, “I really like you.”

Keith’s smile softens. “I really like you, too.”

The answering smile Lance gives him is sunny and sweet. “Uh, maybe this is kinda weird, but do you wanna sit next to me on the flight home?”

Keith’s heart squeezes a little in his chest, eyebrows crinkling. “Lance...I should tell you that--”

Lance flushes a deep red again. “Wait--waitwaitwait, don’t answer that!” Keith opens his mouth to object and explain but Lance presses a finger to his lips firmly. “Nuh-uh!! Shh!! Give me the next two hours to convince you. Please. Then you can either tell me yes and snuggle up for six hours or you can tell me to fuck off and I’ll be fine if you do, promise, but please just--”

“Hey, okay,” Keith says, pulling Lance’s hand from his mouth. “Sure. I’ll tell you in two hours.”

“Perfect. Aren’t you going to ask me how I plan to convince you?”

Keith eyes him. “I’m a little afraid to ask.”

Lance snickers, but leans further into Keith’s space and gives him a quick peck on the lips, shameless, like it took nothing at all for him to do it. That boyish charm Keith noticed about him at first glance seems to be out in full force right now, and his stomach drops at the sweet little kiss, hardening his hands into fists so he doesn’t do something stupid and obscene to this boy right out here in the middle of the airport for anyone to see. 

“We’ll start there,” Lance says, and he has only just barely pulled away, nearly kissing Keith again between each word for how close they are. “But first--we should probably find some place more private.”

Keith feels his gaze turn from shock into something much sharper, heart hammering away in his chest, nearly outraged. “Lance.”

The edges of Lance’s teasing mouth are tilted in a smirk, cheeks warm, both of his hands planted boldly on top of Keith’s thighs. “I like your eyebrows. They give all of you away, you know. Like, right now you’re thinking _‘Gee, Lance, I’d love to take you into the men’s bathroom and ravish you’_ and _‘Lance, you are driving me crazy’_ and also _‘Lance, you’re fucking insane’_ but like in a naughty sort of way, if your first two thoughts are any indication to go by.”

Keith groans in annoyance, though it’s not genuine annoyance. Lance is just so close and so correct that it makes him--well, crazy. “You’re getting too comfortable with me, if you’re saying stuff like that.” 

“Is that okay?” Lance flutters and then lowers his eyelids, giving Keith another cute little peck. “I know we just met. Maybe I am coming on too strong, but I can’t help it. Have you seen yourself?” He pauses. “Do you want me to stop?” he whispers, and it doesn’t sound like he’s teasing this time.

“No.” Keith brings up a hand to cup Lance’s cheek, looking down at him, feeling himself soften up. “What do you want from me?” he asks quietly, seriously. “Tell me honestly.”

“I’ve been nothing but honest with you,” Lance breathes against his mouth, looking more drunk now than he has all day. His blue eyes are dark, muddled, like prolonged exposure to Keith’s mouth has softened everything else, long eyelashes sweeping over the plump of his cheek when he blinks slow. Keith is struck with the thought that he’s more beautiful now than he had been at first sight.

“You’ve been messing with my head for the last hour,” Keith murmurs.

Lance gives him a warm, lazy look. “Promise you mean that?”

Keith laughs, his mouth brushing Lance’s briefly, sliding his thumb over the sweep of Lance’s lovely jawline. Two can play at that game. “Yes, I promise.” He presses a real kiss, longer than any of Lance’s, to the corner of his mouth. “What do you want from me, Lance?” He moves to kiss the other corner of his mouth. “To kiss you?” He skims his lips towards Lance’s cheek, and whispers, “To fuck you?”

Lance’s hands, still planted on top of Keith’s thighs, squeeze his legs briefly. “Oh god,” Lance breathes out, trembling all at once. “A-And you thought--you thought _I_ was crazy--”

“You haven’t answered me,” Keith murmurs again, kisses the corner of his jaw.

“ _Fuck_ \--okay, well _hell_ yes to the first thing and--a-and, as to the second--not--n-not sure how practical that is today but--”

Keith can’t help himself when he laughs lightly at Lance’s stumbling and stuttering over all these words. He’s so cute. So unbelievably, unexpectedly adorable. He ignores the pang in his chest that hits him when his thoughts remind him he’s not going to LA with Lance, when Lance’s minced words are a flare of possibility, burning with the idea of seeing Keith again, on another day, soon. He wishes he were going to LA. He wishes Lance was going to Austin.

Keith gives him a full kiss, short and sweet, right on his lips, before drawing away, shifting Lance off of him as he stands up and collects his bag and jacket. “I’m just messing with you, Lance. That’s what you get for being such a tease.”

Lance turns cherry red and goes quiet for a long, long minute before he glares up at him looking utterly betrayed. “I take it back. I don’t like you at all. You’re the worst and I hate you.”

Keith grins and grabs Lance’s jacket and bag for him. “C’mon, let me make it up to you.”

Lance’s glare only deepens. “Where are we going?”

Keith takes Lance’s hand for himself. “The bathroom.”

::

There isn’t enough time in the fucking world. That’s Keith’s looming concern right now, because, fuck, even if he did live in LA, even if he lived in the apartment across the damn hall from Lance, he still wouldn’t have enough time. What the hell had they been doing all day, dancing around each other, when they could have been doing this the whole goddamn time??

Okay. Okay, look, Keith isn’t angry. He’s not, really.

It’s just that, he’s never been kissed the way Lance is kissing him. Or, more accurately, it’s never felt like this before.

Keith has had a few partners here and there--nothing serious, all casual--but this is on a whole other level. When he’d tugged Lance into the stall at the end of the bathroom and dropped his bag on the floor, he’d had every intention to, yeah, give Lance something to remember him by. A nice hazy makeout session maybe, a little groping, a couple of clever quips to match Lance’s smart mouth.

But the moment Keith kissed him--really kissed him, long and lingering, hands steadying his hips--Lance’s embarrassment vanished and he had gone so soft beneath him, knees shaking, a little groan of pleasure slipping out. Every last bit of control in Keith fell away like it had never existed at all. He can’t believe he’s spent the last 24 years of his life not knowing that it could feel like this. That Lance had just been out there, living a life so far away from his, when he is so obviously supposed to be here, in Keith’s arms, kissing him. 

“Fuck,” Keith hisses out as Lance’s hands slip into his hair and tug a little. “What are you doing to me?”

“Hell if I know. Is this crazy?” Lance asks breathlessly, mouth deliciously red, widening his thighs so that Keith can move closer to him, who then dips to smear wet kisses up the gorgeous line of Lance’s throat. “C’mere, c’mere. I--I changed my mind. I like you again.”

Keith huffs out a laugh and slips the hand at the bend of Lance’s back up under his T-shirt, nearly losing his mind when he feels how soft his skin is, when Lance bends further into Keith’s touch, as though he’s desperate for every bit of contact he can get. His hand skates all the way up to press into the hollow between his shoulder blades and Keith steals the sound Lance makes in response with another open-mouthed kiss.

It’s wet, and perfect, and Lance likes it so much he can’t stop trying to arch into Keith’s body, hips shifting this way and that. His hands tighten in Keith’s hair before wandering around his arms and shoulders like he doesn’t know where to touch him, like he wants to be everywhere and can’t. “Oh my god,” Lance breathes against Keith’s demanding mouth, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. You’re so fucking hot, Keith.” The last part comes out like a whine that’s so low and tortured that Keith laughs again.

He slips his other hand under Lance’s shirt at the small of his back. “What do you want me to say, baby?” Keith asks, his palm skating downward over Lance’s ass, blood going electric as Lance gasps and cants his hips against Keith’s thigh at the slow and deliberate path of his hand. “Sorry?”

Lance wraps his arms tight around Keith’s neck and leans into another kiss, a little less coordinated than the last, moaning when Keith’s other hand joins the first, grabbing at him so fiercely it forces Lance onto his toes.

“I wish we were anywhere else but here,” Lance says between kisses and Keith hums in response. “How much time do we have left?”

“Not enough,” Keith grumbles, kissing him harder. He’s got too much presence of mind left to be bringing that up here, right now, when Keith can have him like this. In retribution, Keith starts sucking marks into Lance’s skin, determined to make Lance think about him and only him. “Stop thinking about that. Think about me.”

He hears Lance whisper, “oh my god, you’re so hot,” but after that, it’s nothing but long minutes of kissing, Lance’s desperation tempering down into something more lazy, more manageable and Keith loses himself in it a bit. He presses Lance into the cool wall, grinning when Lance slips his own hands under Keith’s shirt and clutches his waist like it’s a lifeline, letting Keith kiss him however he wants, kissing him back with matching fervor.

He honestly doesn’t know if anyone else comes in or out of the bathroom. He honestly doesn’t care.

If they were anywhere else, Keith would do more. Go further. He can tell Lance would bend whichever way Keith told him to, eager to please, ripe to suggestion, but he doesn’t want to give the wrong impression. After all, he’s not going home with Lance; they live 1500 miles apart. It would hurt him to hurt Lance, to make him think he’d used him or was after this from the start, when all Keith really wanted in the beginning was a name.

After a while, the kissing gentles, becomes softer, as Keith slowly brings them both down, rubbing at Lance’s side, tilting his head back with one hand at the nape of his neck.

“Have I convinced you?” Lance murmurs drunkenly at one point, fingers folded together at the small of Keith’s back beneath his shirt. 

“Hmm?” Keith is peppering gentler kisses against the bruises he left on Lance’s neck.

“To sit next to me,” Lance elaborates with some effort. “On the plane.”

Keith heaves a big sigh and then presses his face to Lance’s throat just to be close, slipping both arms around his waist as his heart twinges unhappily in his chest. “Lance…”

“That’s not too clingy, is it?” Lance presses a kiss to the dip of Keith’s shoulder. “I mean...I mean I had this like, dumb fantasy that we talk for a couple of hours and then you let me sleep on your shoulder and when we get to LAX, you hold my hand while I wait for my sister to pick me up and I give you my number and then you call and ask me out on a date and….” he trails off. “I’m not clingy, right? Or imagining something between us that isn’t there?”

Keith pulls away enough to get a good look at Lance’s face, who is worrying his reddened bottom lip between his teeth like he’s actually afraid Keith is going to laugh in his face about all of this. He raises one of his hands and cups the side of his face tenderly. “It’s not all you,” Keith tells him, his heart pinching when Lance leans into his touch. “I would love that. To take you on a date. Lance, I would love that.”

Lance’s eyebrows crease. “But?”

“But…” Keith swallows around a sudden dose of fear, startled by the strength of that feeling. “But I’m not going to LA.”

For a moment, Lance just looks confused. “What do you mean?”

Keith lets his hand drift down Lance’s neck, fingertips lightly grazing his skin. “I mean, I was never booked on your flight, Lance.”

Lance places a hand in the middle of Keith’s chest and he’s about to say something, eyebrows totally furrowed now, when a PA announcement paging a Mr. Lance McClain asks him to report to Gate 22 for departure within the next ten minutes. Immediately at that, Lance launches into panic mode, cursing aloud and hastily grabbing his bag and jacket up off the pile they left on the floor. Keith gathers his things, too, hating that this is what it’s come to, worried that he’s majorly upset Lance as the boy practically ignores him on their way out of the bathroom.

But Lance gives him a conflicted, unsure look at Keith over his shoulder as they jog through the terminal. 

“Where the hell are you from, then?” Lance asks.

“Austin,” Keith says. “I’m from Austin.”

“You know what, that makes more sense.” Lance is quiet for another moment, and then he hears him say “Keith Kogane…” softly before he grinds to a sudden halt and fixes Keith with a wild look that stirs his heart up all crazy in his chest. “Oh shit, hold the phone! Did you miss your flight for me, Keith? Was--was that _you_ they were calling earlier?”

There isn’t time to stop and talk about this--Keith feels his face get a little hot as he grabs Lance’s hand to keep him moving down the hall. Just because he missed his flight doesn’t mean Lance has to miss his. It feels like Lance tenses in his hold for a moment, like he might pull away, but he lets Keith continue to rush him down the hall, thankfully not as far away from the gate as they could be.

“Was that you??” he asks again, and he sounds vulnerable, on the cusp of something Keith cannot identify and had not heard or seen in Lance since the moment they met today. Keith isn’t sure whether that means he did something good or bad but it’s not like this is something he can lie about. Even if he could, he wouldn’t want to.

“Yes,” Keith says without glancing at him.

After a beat of silence, Lance starts to laugh, the sound bright and precious. Keith has to look at him now, stunned by this reaction, and completely caught off guard when Lance takes an extra big step beside him to launch himself at Keith. He throws his arms around his neck, high up on his tip toes as Keith fights to steady them before they can go down and then Lance presses a big, smacking kiss to his mouth, fierce and delighted and full of laughter.

When Lance breaks away, it’s with a glittering smile, his eyes all scrunched up and Keith’s heart is doing pathetic little flip flops around in his chest like it’s the first time he’s ever been kissed. 

“You,” Lance announces loudly, giddy and infectious, and to the entire terminal, “are so stupid! You are! THE stupidest man I have _ever_ met in my entire life!! Who in their right mind misses their flight for a complete stranger?!” They attract a few eyes for that, curious gazes, a couple of smiles, a laugh or two. Lance doesn’t seem to be paying them any mind, though, entirely focused on Keith.

Keith laughs, all the tension in his body floating away in the face of Lance’s utter elation. “I wouldn’t call you a complete stranger at this point.”

“I see, I see!” Lance’s eyes sparkle with mirth. “So….you _like me_ like me, huh.”

Keith rolls his eyes playfully and tries to extract himself from Lance’s embrace. “You’re going to miss your flight if we don’t hurry.”

“So you can miss your flight, but I can’t miss mine?” Lance asks, grinning from ear to ear. Keith gets the feeling he’s never going to live this down. “Hypocrite!”

“No,” Keith says firmly, grabbing Lance’s hand and tugging him back into a brisk walk towards his gate, the number 22 easily visible from here. 

Lance doesn’t say anything else until they arrive at the gate, but he’s still got the biggest smile on his face, like he somehow won the lottery which. Is pretty fucking cute, actually. Keith walks him up to the podium so that Lance can scan his ticket and this is all happening so fast but the doors have gotta close and--

“Do you have a pen or something?” Lance asks the gate agent.

She looks slightly annoyed but hands one over anyways. Lance takes it and spins to face Keith, grabbing his hand and quickly penning a phone number onto his palm. Keith has nothing to say--doesn’t know what to say at this point--but Lance looks so satisfied, not at all so disappointed to be leaving him behind.

He says, “Keith, you are an idiot, and I’m just warning you now but I’m probably going to marry you someday.” Before Keith can get his opinion out, Lance is taking him by the front of the shirt and yanking him down into a scorching kiss that lasts not nearly long enough. When he pulls away, he’s grinning up at him, flushed. “You’d better text me. Don’t make me look you up on Facebook. If you make me look you up on Facebook, I’m gonna be mad at you, okay?”

Keith laughs. “Okay.”

Lance releases his shirt and adjusts his grip on his bag. “Okay, good. Now, go book yourself a flight home. And don’t miss it this time.”

“ _Okay,_ Lance.”

“Okay, okay.” He takes one last, lingering look at Keith, hand tight around the strap of his bag. “Okay, I’m going. Bye, Keith.” 

Keith stands there and waves back at him until the gate door has closed behind Lance and he’s completely gone from sight. He feels like laughing, even though there’s nothing to laugh about. He feels all of 13 years old again, like he’s just had his first crush reciprocated and got to kiss him under the bleachers of the football field. It’s ridiculous and stupid and--and he suddenly understands Shiro and his big, dumb, sappy wedding a little bit better.

He goes to the window to watch Lance’s plane pull away from the gate, typing his number into the phone so he can get a quick message off before he puts his phone on airplane mode.

_Hey, it’s Keith. Let me know when you get in._

He’s not surprised when Lance replies immediately. 

_you’ll be the first to know. fyi, the guy sitting next to me isn’t even half as cute as you._

Keith rolls his eyes and chuckles a bit to himself. He pockets the phone and watches Lance’s plane roll towards the runway until he can’t see it anymore. The next twenty five minutes are a blur of making his way back to the ticket counter and booking another flight, but the cheapest next available flight doesn’t go out for another day and a half. Since it’s all he can afford, Keith has to take it.

When that’s done and he’s got his new boarding pass printed and tucked away in his duffle bag, Keith finds a bench and calls Shiro.

“Hey, kiddo!” Shiro greets on the third ring. “You land already? That was fast!”

“Uh….actually I’m still at JFK.”

In the background, he can hear Adam say, “Is that Keith? Was his flight cancelled?” and over him, Shiro replies, “Uh-oh, everything okay? What happened?”

Shiro is gonna give him shit for this. _Adam_ is gonna give him shit for this. Somehow, he still wants them to know. “Well, it’s kind of a funny story….”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> SO DUMB LMAOOOOO
> 
> thanks for reading!


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